The Three Locks by Bonnie MacBird (learn to read books txt) 📕

then an image of a six-year-old girl, her body floating underwater and undulating with a strong current.

A wave of sadness flooded me. I closed my eyes for a moment, shaking my head to dispel the vivid thought.

I focused again on the body of Odelia Wyndham. Evidence of a severe blow to the forehead, and gentle palpating revealing a shattered skull, divulged the coup de grace. ‘From this head injury, I believe she was knocked unconscious before hitting the water. She would have died soon after from bleeding in the brain, but it is likely that she did not suffer in the drowning.’

‘A small blessing,’ murmured Hadley.

Holmes would have the entire picture of the struggle in his head, no doubt, and minutes before our own conclusions.

I then asked to see the items of clothing in which she’d been found.

‘There were none,’ said Hadley.

‘No clothing?’ I cried, aghast that this fact had not been mentioned to me earlier. But of course, it was why they would not let me examine her in situ at the river. That Odelia Wyndham fell or was thrown naked into the lock put an entirely different light on events.

‘We did not wish for this fact to receive public attention,’ said Hadley, ‘given the prominence of the family. My men have been sworn to secrecy.’

‘Who found the body?’

‘A baker en route to his shop at five in the morning.’

‘But that was hours ago!’

‘He was not immediately sure. He saw something white floating in the lock – he thought it was a lily. But it bothered him, and he came back some time later. It was still there. He went in for a closer look and discovered it was a foot. It apparently took him some time to get anyone to pay attention to his claim.’

The foot presenting on the surface was highly unusual, as it was the torso – lungs filled with air and abdomen with fat – that floated more readily. ‘Then she must have been trapped underwater, submerged … face down. Perhaps her hair was tangled into something?’ I said.

The policeman nodded. ‘Yes. Exactly. The gates were opened and she was sucked into the sluice tunnel, her hair tangled into the gate mechanism.’

This image was horrifying, but she had been unconscious at the time, I reminded myself. Unaware. Thank the heavens for this, at least. ‘Sir,’ said I, ‘Sherlock Holmes may have something useful to offer us. If you will permit?’

Minutes later, back at the station, we were both in for a surprise. Where Holmes had been locked in, Hadley and I now faced an empty cell, the door ajar, and handcuffs on the floor. In spite of it all, in spite of the horror of our discovery, I felt a small tingle of delight. Holmes had managed to free himself!

Hadley missed the humour. ‘Now this is a real shame’ said he.

‘Mr Holmes can help you solve this case,’ I said. ‘He has only to—’

‘He has ruined his chances,’ said Hadley. ‘You must realize that his arrest was a courtesy to the don. I planned to hold him overnight only. He will now face serious charges.’

I inwardly cursed my friend’s impatience, while admiring his skills. But where was he now?

CHAPTER 30

Freddie Eden-Summers

As Hadley began instructing his men to begin the investigation into Dillie’s death, I made my way outside and walked down the sunbaked street, unsure of what to do next. I had no idea where Holmes might have gone, but I had not long to ponder this as a hiss drew my attention to a narrow alleyway. In the shadows, a head of tousled dark hair peeked from behind several stacks of rubbish. A skinny arm waved me over.

I glanced about me, then ducked into the alley. ‘Holmes!’ I whispered. ‘You have made a mistake. Hadley was planning to release you tomorrow, and now—’

Holmes pulled me down next to him behind the heaping waste. ‘Tomorrow will be too late, Watson!’ He grasped both my arms, too hard, his face inches from mine. He was the picture of dismay. ‘Dear God, I have failed that young woman!’

‘No, Holmes. You gave her clear advice which she ignored.’ He shook his head. ‘You warned her that her provocations put her in danger.’

‘Not her provocations. It was her casual cruelty that made me fear for her.’

‘And you tried to tell her this, while still supporting her independence, Holmes. You did the right thing.’

‘No young woman deserves such a fate!’ he cried and released my arms. I almost fell backwards into the refuse.

‘Careful, Holmes. We are out of our element here. And you do not have a client, remember.’

‘Dillie. The late Odelia Wyndham is my client,’ said he. ‘And I will find her murderer.’ We stood, but he yanked me back down when he spotted two policemen running in the direction of the river. After a minute, he peeked out. ‘It’s clear, Watson. We must do our work before the police. Tell me of the post-mortem along the way.’

I did so as Holmes and I hurried down side streets and ducked into alleys. Holmes’s plan was to visit each of Dillie’s beaus in turn, as quickly as possible. It would require a fair amount of luck, but there was no dissuading him. He knew the Cambridge police were not up to the case. I had to agree.

Our first stop was Trinity College, and the rooms of Freddie Eden-Summers. Perhaps the missing engagement ring meant Dillie had broken off her engagement with this young man. And Eden-Summers was fit and strong enough to overcome the girl. Perhaps he had torn his ring from her finger.

If luck was with us, we could question him and be gone before the police arrived to pursue the matter themselves.

Minutes later, we found ourselves facing his elegant student lodgings in one of the more beautiful courts in Cambridge. Upon entering the foyer, the heat faded instantly to a delicious coolness. The Wyndham name gave us immediate cachet, and a porter led us to